Sailmaker by Rosanne Hawke

They’re at the lighthouse door. Looks like Barber can pick padlocks. He’s got the door open. No one goes in there, not even Vern. Only the transport officer to service the light. Guess Barber must think if I did get to the radio no one would find him in there.
    I get down the ladder fast. And into the kitchen. Vern’s still out. Then I check on the radio. It’s ten to twelve, but there’s no way I can try it again. The little red light is off. Little bits of the receiver are broken, sticking out at strange angles. Always that radio flashed or murmured, like the purring of a cat. I push the button just to check. No crackle, no murmur. Nothing. We’re on our own.

22
    Since I can’t do any more with the radio, I decide I better not leave Mei by herself with that maniac any longer. There must be something I can do. I’m as wet as a dog that’s fallen into the surf. Vern’s still asleep. I check him out, put him on his side and get a blanket. Went once with Dev to a volunteer Sea Rescue night. Some ambulance guys were showing us all this stuff. Just hope Vern’s okay. It’s hard not seeing Olsen lift his tail. Even though he was an old dog, he still had some go in him. Weird how it’s not until it’s stopped that I‘ve noticed. The radio too.
    I pull on one of Vern’s coats. At least Mei and I have our own jeans and sweaters, dried by Vern’s heater. Not dry any more. Just before I tug the door open I give it all one more thought. What can I do? But I don’t think for long. For one thing, I won’t know until I get there, and besides, planning ahead isn’t one of my strong points unless I’m fishing. When you’re fishing everything goes fine if you use the right bait and lure. Somehow now I have to do the same.
    The door to the lighthouse isn’t locked from the inside. Now why hasn’t he done that? Thinks no one will know anyway? I would have locked it if it was me in there. I’m trying not to make a noise or huff too much as I go up the stairs. I don’t want him to know I’m coming, nor do I want to freak Mei out. But trying to hold my breath to listen makes me noisier.
    I needn’t have bothered being quiet – Barber’s sitting there at the top, waiting for me. As I come round the last curve I see him. He’s got a torch going. Mei’s in a tight little ball as far away on the next step as she can manage, her head down on her knees and her arms wrapped round them like she’s hanging onto a tower in the wind.
    Barber looks up and grins. In that instant, I wonder if I’ve imagined it all. He looks just like one of the Year 12 guys on the high school bus. Then the image shatters, as he opens his mouth.
    â€˜Thought you’d show up. Took ya time.’ He looks real peeved about that, and I start getting worried. I’ve seen a cat play with a lizard. Barber has the same look in his eye, the knife held loosely in his hand. So the door was left open for me. I have to keep him here, so he doesn’t go down and lock it. It’s twenty-five metres down. Will he be bothered? Then he starts talking about the radio. Maybe it’s the sound of my silence, for he stands up suddenly. There’s a slight clang.
    â€˜Friggin’ brat. You called, didn’t ya?’ He’s coming for me. Do I tell him it didn’t work? He won’t believe me, not after losing the tinnie. Run? But then he’ll grab Mei again, make me come back. I try something else.
    â€˜Careful,’ I say. ‘There’s a ghost in here.’ Surely after all that clanging for a hundred and fifty years and no one getting hurt, the ghost won’t start hurting people now. Mei’s watching me, and I’m trying to look sorry at her, so she’ll know I’m doing it for us. It’s scaring her, I can tell, but if I can spook Barber it might make him forget about the door.
    â€˜Ghost, what